


The 36th Year

by echolehane



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Major Character Undeath, Rosenberg-Maclay clan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echolehane/pseuds/echolehane
Summary: It's Tara's 36th birthday. She's happy to spend it with her family.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kathubs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathubs/gifts).



> So I wrote this for Katie because she reminded me that our sunshine and glorious goddess Tara Maclay should have turned 36 on Sunday but was denied the opportunity. This fic is dedicated to Katie - to hopefully chase away any residual sadness (sorry it's late!) - and to Tara, for being such a light. It's short, but I hope it's okay. 
> 
> Set in an AU where Tara doesn't die (duh).
> 
> (Also I might expand this later but I'm unsure).

The sun streamed in from the curtains across the room, warming just a slice of the bed. Willow shifted so her foot was out of the sunlight, back to normal temperature, and rolled over slightly. Her limbs were already pretty much as entwined with Tara's as they were going to get, but she still snuggled in further, using the arm slung across Tara's waist to tighten her grip just a little more.  
"Keep that up and I won't be able to breathe, sweetie," a soft voice said from just above her head, and Willow tilted her face up to look at her wife. Tara's hair was mussed from sleep and sex, her cloudy eyes telling Willow that she'd only just woken up. But she was still wearing her trademark half-smile, and just because of that, Willow leant up to kiss it off her lips.  
"Happy birthday," she murmured when they broke apart. The leg that was resting between Tara's had risen, giving Willow more leverage against the brunette's body.  
"I don't want to be thirty-six," Tara whined softly.  
"If it's any consolation, you look better than you did when you were thirty-five," Willow smirked, and Tara rolled her eyes good-naturedly.  
"I love you," she whispered, her words a hot puff of air against Willow's lips. The redhead closed the gap once more, feeling her body heat up thanks to something much more than just the sun coming in from the window. It was _her_ sun. Right here, in this bed, kissing her lips.

A knock at the bedroom door startled them both, and Willow's hand froze in the journey it had started up Tara's thigh.  
"Ma," a small voice whined loudly from the other side. "Mom. Door's locked. You alive?"  
Their moment spoiled, Willow pressed her forehead against Tara's and let out a breathy laugh of frustration.  
"Hang on baby," Tara called, and Willow was once again surprised at how calm she could make her voice when it needed to be.  
"Okay. But you gotta open up so we can give you the breakfast Ma told us to give you."  
By this point, both women were half out of bed, reaching for clothes to put on.  
"You told them to make me breakfast?" Tara's voice was quiet so as to not reach the children undoubtedly waiting just outside of the door.  
"No!" Willow was quick to reply, but then caved, a grin forming on her lips. "I _suggested_ you might like a special treat for breakfast. Must've been Imogen who thought bed was a good idea."  
"I thought bed was a good idea too," Tara mumbled, just loud enough for Willow to hear. She laughed lightly as she finished pulling the far-too-large t-shirt over her head, standing and starting to make her way to the door.  
"Later, honey," she dropped her voice an octave as she looked over at her wife, propped up against the headboard, wearing nothing but a robe. God, she was lucky.

As predicted, three smiling faces grinned up at her when she opened the door. Imogen was holding the tray, clearly having deemed herself the most responsible, and Jasper was standing beside her, holding a mug like it was the most precious thing in the world. Meanwhile, Sarahi was standing beside her brother and sister, her beloved puppy in one hand and a messily wrapped parcel in the other. Willow was taken aback for a moment. Honestly, she'd expected to get up, sneak out of bed, haul all of them out of their own beds and then help them make something for Tara's birthday. Instead, they'd done this. Tears sprung to her eyes but she grinned anyway, bending down conspiratorially.  
"Okay guys, I want you to give Mom the biggest hug ever when you get in there."  
"Careful of the milk!" Jasper interjected instantly, wide blue eyes darting to the mug in his hand. _Ah. So that's what's in there._  
"Yes, Jas. Careful of the milk."  
"Sing happy bird'day now?" Sarahi asked softly, tilting her head a little.  
Willow couldn't respond for a moment, shocked that her youngest had remembered the tradition.  
"We reminded her, Ma, don't worry," Imogen piped up. "Can we go in now? I wanna sing."  
"Of course," Willow stepped back, allowing their kids to enter the bedroom.

Within twenty minutes, breakfast was done, the dishes carefully placed on the side table, and the family lay sprawled on the bed.  
"Whatcha gon' wear for the party, Mom?" Imogen asked, twisting around in Tara's arms to look up at her.  
"Right. party," Tara glanced over at Willow, who couldn't help but smile. They'd decided 'parties' weren't really a big event now that they were getting older (plus, it was more about the kids' birthdays than anything) but the Scoobies were all coming over for lunch. Imogen still insisted on calling it a party, for whatever reason, and Willow didn't have the heart to tell her it wasn't. That birthdays got less exciting as you grew up.  
"Did ya pick anything yet?"  
"I haven't, actually," Tara answered.  
"C'mon then, we gotta get you a good dress," Imogen leapt up out of the bed, spinning to grab Tara's hand. She tugged on it until Tara stood.  
"Okay, baby," she conceded, flashing a grin at Willow.

The redhead looked around the room briefly, taking in this moment. The sun was shining. Her wife and daughter were standing in front of the closet, now arguing over what Tara's favourite colour was (and apparently Tara was losing). Tonight, Buffy would take the kids. She'd have her gorgeous woman to herself, and be able to give her a /proper/ birthday present. She'd heard that birthdays got worse as you got older. Less parties, less fun. But sitting here, in this moment, Willow thought that couldn't be any more wrong.


End file.
